Leaving on a Jet Plane
by musicforlife101
Summary: Introspective of Michael on the morning he leaves Fi. Songfic. Mike/Fi. Pre-series. spoilers for 1st season ep, but i can't remember the name. i think its the ep with bly.


**This came to me in a flash of music blaring in my head. I noticed how it fit but yet it didn't, so I tried and I think I actually like it. This is set pre-series, the morning Michael leaves Fiona when his cover is blown. I wasn't specific where in Ireland this is, but I've always imagined it was in Dublin. You can imagine it however you want.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, the show or the song. Just my imagined version of events.**

The Irish morning was brisk and foggy as Michael walked out of the apartment building and got into and fifth taxi he found, just to be sure it wasn't anyone who wanted him dead. He opened the door and took one last, wistful look at the window behind which he was sure Fiona was sleeping.

_As a spy, you get used to the idea of people wanting to you dead, so you find the most boring and nondescript ways to travel. You drive a car to the grocery store. You fly halfway around the world. You take a ferry across the channel. You catch a cab to the airport. These precautions that make you look normal, also make you predictable. So your enemy will probably guess that you'll take that first cab you see. So you don't take the one they expect. You wait for the taxi no one expects. If they can figure out that I'll pick the fifth cab, they're just way better than I am and they deserve to win. If it's that much of a coincidence, the Big Man upstairs just has it out for me._

He stepped into the cab and shut the door, hard. He wasn't happy that he had to leave, but the door was the best stress relief he was going to get at this point. Staring out the window blankly, as if the city was an abyss, the cabbie must've figured out that Michael wasn't up for conversation. Maybe he wasn't coming home to someone. Maybe he was leaving for good. The driver didn't pry, but he speculated to himself.

"Do you mind if I turn on the radio?" he asked his passenger, who barely glanced over at him before turning back to the blank window pane.

"Go ahead," he replied evenly. The cabbie turned the knob and pressed a few buttons until it came to rest on a station he liked. One song flowed into the next and before he knew it, Michael was listening to probably the worst song he could possibly be listening to.

_All my bags are packed_

_I'm ready to go_

The spy looked over at his duffel bag on the seat beside him. He sighed heavily with an air of melancholy.

_I'm standing here outside your door_

_I hate to wake you up to say goodbye_

So he didn't. There were other reasons of course, but he knew he couldn't leave if he had to see her break right in front of him. It would make him stay. But he would have to live with what his sometimes overactive imagination would come up with.

_But the dawn is breaking_

_It's early morn_

It was just early enough for her to still be sleeping. He had packed just after she'd fallen asleep and left just before she awoke, though he hadn't gotten much sleep in between.

_The taxi's waiting_

_He's blowing his horn_

He wasn't really, but he had been waiting. Michael sighed again, almost silently.

_Already I'm so lonesome_

_I could cry_

Having been with her on and off for the past few years and never really being alone, he felt like part of him was missing. It was scary now, feeling like he needed someone so much when he had been taught not to form attachments. His whole life—childhood included—he had learned that people weren't trustworthy and putting stock in them was stupid. With Fiona it wasn't like that, for some crazy reason.

_So kiss me and smile for me_

_Tell me that you'll wait for me_

_Hold me like you'll never let me go_

_Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane_

_Don't know when I'll be back again_

_Oh babe, I hate to go_

If only. If she kissed him and smiled, he wouldn't have been able to leave. He didn't want her to put her life on hold because he wasn't sure he would ever be back. If she held him like she'd never let him go, he would probably hold her just as tight and make good on that promise. That was the more superficial reason for not telling her he was leaving.

_There's so many times I've played around_

_So many times I've let you down_

_I tell you now they don't mean a thing_

So he'd done things he wasn't proud of. So had she. They had forgiven and helped each other make amends, at least to themselves and whatever God they believed was up there. He knew he'd let her down more than once though and he just wished he could have told her that he didn't mean it. He wished things had been different.

_So kiss me and smile for me_

_Tell me that you'll wait for me_

_Hold me like you'll never let me go_

_Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane_

_Don't know when I'll be back again_

_Oh babe, I hate to go_

_Now the time has come to leave you_

He was gone. Almost away from everything. Time to leave her for what could be forever.

_One more time, let me kiss you_

He had stolen one extra goodnight kiss. It was overly sentimental for them, but he wouldn't get one to make sure he was safe. No kiss-slap to remind him to be careful. So he'd stolen an extra kiss, slapped himself when he'd gotten in the elevator, and listened to that little voice in his head that sounded like her telling him to be careful on his next mission and to come back alive or she'd kill him.

_Then close your eyes, I'll be on my way_

_Dream about the days to come_

_When I won't have to leave alone_

_About the times I won't have say_

_Kiss me and smile for me_

_Tell me that you'll wait for me_

_Hold me like you'll never let me go_

_Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane_

_Don't know when I'll be back again_

_Oh babe, I hate to go_

He wasn't sure if those days would ever come, but he tried to keep the hope alive. He hated to go, but he wasn't sad that the song ended. He was glad it was done haunting him. Finally, the cab pulled up to the loading zone at the airport terminal. He tossed the cabbie the fare plus a substantial tip and grabbed his duffel bag. It looked almost funny, slung across his shoulders with a charcoal Armani suit underneath. Michael, though, could make just about anything look as casual as if he'd been doing it forever.

With one last forlorn glance out his tiny airplane window at the city he'd called his 'home' of sorts more than once in the past five years or so, he pulled down the shade and tried just as hard to forget as he did to remember.

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